Socks as an Artform
by otherkate
Summary: Methos isn't talking to Duncan D/M Established relationship.


Socks as an Art Form

A Highlander Slash Fanfiction D/M

By Otherkate

"Socks as an art form: now there's a thought." Methos muttered to himself. He glanced down at the thermal sock currently covering his hand and arm and thought back to why he was pulling a 'Hamlet' with the damn thing.

"Alas, poor Duncan's cock. I knew him." Methos rolled his eyes at his idiocy and quickly pulled the offending thing off his arm, but then realized the damn thing had at least been warm.

He tossed the sock onto the steadily growing pile of laundry gracing his floor, and was mentally listing all the things he'd been ignoring since taking up with the living embodiment of an Immortal Super Hero.

He jumped when the phone rang. Duncan or Joe. Since Duncan wasn't talking to him, it had to be Joe.

For a second he contemplated letting the answering machine get the call, but then sighed. He snatched the phone up, "Hello."

"Hey! I just tried to call you at Mac's. We were supposed to go over to that new book store."

"Well, Mac and I aren't really talking right now, Joe." Methos said.

Joe paused briefly then asked, "Why not. Or rather what now?"

"Well, ever since the watchers found out who I was we've been inundated. You know, romance and any sort of equilibrium in a relationship is difficult to maintain even without the constant peeping toms, and Duncan isn't known for having a short fuse."

"Methos, my friend, what you need is a nice day out with me. Book shopping. It'll be great. Besides it has been awhile since you and I did anything without Mac."

Methos snorted, but then smiled. "Fine. How about I swing by and pick you up in about an hour? Where are you anyway?"

"My place."

"Okay, see you in a bit." Methos hung up, and scowled at the pile of dirty clothes in his living room.

"Laundry day: the story of my life. Fortunately, I believe in playing hooky." Methos grabbed his coat of the back of the couch and shrugged into it. He touched the familiar pommel of his sword tucked away into its hidden sheath and then grabbed his keys and wallet. Hopefully, time spent with Joseph would take his mind off a certain stubborn Scot for a few hours.

"As if." Methos muttered to himself as he succumbed to a small fit of temper and slammed the door behind him just as the phone began to ring again.

Methos paused for a moment. He wasn't talking to Duncan, and he'd see Joe soon enough. Whoever it was couldn't be too important. Ignoring the ringing, Methos went out to his car.

*****

Methos and Joe walked quietly down one of the aisles in the bookstore, causally looking at the titles. Neither was very impressed.

"Not a very good selection." Joe said derisively. He pulled a book off the shelf, picked a sentence and read, "Blood splattered the window like droplets of rain." He snorted, "Who'd read this crap?" He snapped the book shut and put it back on the shelf.

Methos nodded as he leafed through another one, "Yup. How about this one...'Wind tore through the valley like a baby on a rampage.' Paints a picture doesn't it?" Turning to Joe, he stuck the book he was holding onto the shelf and asked, "Wanna go get lunch?"

"Yeah, sounds good." A darting movement out of the corner of his eye, made him turn and study a woman doing her best not to look like she was watching them. Molly, who used to report to Joe but hadn't in a few weeks, apparently was one of the new Methos watchers. Joe's eyes met with hers and he grinned. She looked sheepish, and shrugged minutely.

"Come on, let's go." Joe turned and made his way to the front door with Methos right behind him. At the door Joe nodded to a young man trying not to stare at them; the same young man who'd been there the entire time they'd been in the store.

Methos rolled his eyes and reached to pull open the door, "He one of yours?" He asked Joe, referring to the man.

The young man in question swallowed loudly, when Joe shrugged, "What do you think?

"Yup. He looks like one." Methos turned to the young man who was attempting to back up, but instead ran into a book rack. "Are you one of mine?"

"Uh...."

"Stop tormenting the help, Methos." Joe shook his head, but smiled at the young man, "Don't mind him. He's just a little high strung."

Methos scowled and then pointed to another man, this one slightly older and portly. "What about that one?" He turned to motion at an elderly woman trying to desperately hide behind a book shelf behind them. "Or her? Molly, right. Used to be Taggart's?" Finally facing Joe again, he snarled, "Just how many watchers do I have anyway?"

Joe glanced around and rapidly counted the number of faces he knew or recognized, and then added on the ones he knew were out in the street. "Quite a few. I don't know exactly. You do have a very good habit of ...disappearing."

"Joe!"

"Um, sir? It's not his fault." The young man said quietly.

"Back off, asshole, I'm an Immortal." Methos knew he was being an ass, but couldn't seem to stop. Anger was a wonderful stress reliever, and since he couldn't blow up at the one he was really angry at....

"Methos!" Exasperated, Joe grabbed Methos' arm and tried to pull him toward the door.

Methos refused to budge. "What's your name?"

"Tomas, Sir." The young man replied.

"Well, Tomas. Do you like being a watcher?" The kid looked like he'd been broadsided by a bull.

"Yes, sir. "

Joe groaned, "Play nice, Methos. He's a kid."

"If you like the job so much why didn't you pay attention to the classes that dealt with not being seen. I believe that is one of the things watchers strive to do."

Tomas blushed, "I was told to not move from this spot, Sir. I'm doing the best I can— I'm not responsible for the rest of the morons."

Methos grinned, "Well, well. Someone who obeys their elders." He turned to Joe, "Can I keep him?"

"He's not a pet." Joe grabbed Methos' arm again, and finally succeeded in moving him to the door.

Methos turned back to glance at Tomas, "Bye, Tomas. Call me sometime." He made his hand into the shape of a phone and help it to his ear and grinned, "I'm sure you have my number."

Joe yanked Methos out of the doorway, and scowled at the ancient immortal, "I don't believe you. He's a kid. You should pick on people who can handle you."

"That kid just insulted every other watcher in the room. I'd say he can handle me fine." Methos smiled.

"So where do you want to go for lunch?" Joe changed the subject.

"A little diner down the street. It's got really nice food, and a good selection of beer."

"Yeah, I know about it. I should have guessed you would too."

"Well, priorities must be maintained." Methos stepped back into the bookstore, and yelled out, "We're going down the street to Bob's Diner. We'll be there for about an hour." He stepped back out onto the street and motioned for Joe to start.

"You are incorrigible." Joe laughed.

"Part of my charm."

They continued in silence for a few seconds until Joe glanced over at Methos' distinctive profile. "So, what really happened between you and Mac?"

"I told you; he had a difficult time with all the watchers hanging around."

"Uh huh. I believe that, but what aren't you telling me."

"We got into a fight about Kronos." Methos said quietly. "The fight got worse from there. The watchers just compounded the problem."

Joe shook his head, "Shit."

"I agree." Methos stopped in front of a small door and pulled it open, "Don't worry about it, Joe. It happened; let's leave it at that."

Joe walked into the little diner, and waited for Methos to enter behind him. Methos pointed over to a small table against the far wall. As soon as they sat down a small matronly woman handed them two paper laminated menus and tried to disappear. Methos stopped her and ordered a large pitcher of beer, and a hot pastrami sandwich with french fries.

Joe grunted, "You know, that sounds good. I'll have one of those also."

The waitress smiled wobbily, took their menus back and left.

"So, when is Mac getting here?" Methos asked calmly.

"Why would you think Mac was coming?" Joe responded.

"I know you Joe. You called him as soon as you got off the phone with me this morning. I think he tried to call me back, unless that was you."

"Yeah, well. I wanted to know what was going on."

Methos nodded, "So, when's he going to get here?"

He checked his watch, "anytime now."

"Wonderful."

"Don't sound so morose. All you need to do is talk it over."

Methos shook his head, "It's a little more than that."

"How?"

The waitress came back carrying a tray with two pilsners and a pitcher. She placed the pitcher on the table and a glass in front of each of them. After filling up each glass, she left quickly.

Methos grinned, "She one of yours?" He drank down some of the beer and closed his eyes in delight.

"Right. Everybody you run into is a watcher." Joe took a healthy swig of beer, and then looked over at his friend, "Just relax, okay?"

Methos nodded, and smiled when he saw the waitress returning with a try of food, "Wait til you try this. I love their pastrami." He topped off his glass and looked up at the waitress, "Another pitcher please."

Joe rolled his eyes and again thought that Methos and a five year old child had a great deal in common. The waitress simply nodded, and left.

"See, she has to be a watcher. No one else would serve someone two pitchers of beer in less than ten minutes. She has to know I'm immortal."

Joe just shook his head and started to eat. Neither talked until they were halfway through the meal, when Joe, grunted his approval. "Damn this is good."

"Stick with me Joe, you'll never want for good things again."

"Like Kronos?"

Methos stared at Joe reproachfully, but then suddenly froze, his eyes going wide. He turned to the door in time to see MacLeod come into the diner.

Under his breath, Methos said, "Traitor."

Joe ignored him.

MacLeod walked over to the table and pulled up a chair from another table. "Joe, Methos."

"Mac." Joe said, and they both turned to look at Methos as he downed a full pilsner of beer and poured himself another.

Methos jerked in his seat and glared at Joe. "I'm not talking to him, and don't kick me again."

"Oh, you can kick him all you want Joe. After me, of course." Mac said quietly.

"Yes, Joe. Kick MacLeod first, by all means." Methos snarled.

"That's not what he meant, and you know it." Joe said calmly. Methos was certainly overreacting to something.

"Methos, you left in the middle of a fight last night." Mac said.

"The fight was over." Methos took a healthy swig of beer, and topped off the glass from the pitcher.

Mac sighed, "I tried to call you."

"I turned the phone off."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want to talk to you."

"You're talking to me now." Mac tried to be reasonable.

Methos downed the full glass of beer in front of him and poured another, "No, I'm trying to get rid of you."

"Why, just because I asked you if you and Kronos were lovers?"

Joe's mouth dropped open, "You thought that Methos and he were...?"

"See?" Methos snapped, "Even Joe thinks it's a ridiculous question."

Joe waved his comment aside, "Oh, it's not that! It's just.... I'd have thought Mac would have already known. He did take Kronos's quickening after all."

"Thanks Joe." Methos downed the last of the beer from the second pitcher and promptly stood up. He swayed for a second and blinked owlishly. "I think I drank too fast."

Mac looked at the two pitchers and then at Joe, "How many glasses did you have?"

"One." He looked at his half full glass, "Well, half of one anyway."

Mac nodded, "Yeah, Methos. I'd say your drank too fast and too much."

"As usual." Joe muttered.

Methos looked out the diner's window, and grinned. "I didn't know that was there!" He turned to walk out of the diner, and crashed into Mac's chair. MacLeod reached up and grasped the ancient immortal's hips to steady him.

"Maaaac. If I'm not talking to you; I don't think I'm going to fuck you." He jerked out of Mac's grasp, snagged two beers off the waitresses tray as she tried to walk by him.

"Hey!" She stopped and glared at him as he downed one entire bottle.

"Oh don't worry. He'll pay for it." Methos jerked his thumb at the Highlander when he'd finished the bottle. He placed the bottle on the table carefully, and started walking for the door as he began to drink the second beer.

Joe laughed out loud for a second, but tried to compose himself when Mac scowled at him.

"Methos! Yer' daft!" Mac practically bellowed.

"Me?! Daft? I'm not crazy...I"m a little tipsy right now, but I'm not daft." Methos was slightly amazed that he hadn't slurred one word.

Mac stood up and glanced over the other occupants of the diner, all of whom were raptly watching the scene. MacLeod pictured them all running home and logging onto the watcher network and committing the entire episode for posterity. "Come on, we need someplace a little more private." He waited for Joe to get out of his chair, but kept an eye on the drunken immortal. Hopefully, Methos would wait for the two of them, but if not MacLeod wasn't about to be stuck at the cash register paying the damn bill if the Old Man made a run for it.

He pulled out his wallet and slapped two twenties on the table. "Come on Joe, let's get him someplace where he won't cause any problems."

"I wasn't aware there was any such place."

Suddenly, Methos opened the door and lunged out into the street..

"Damn!" Duncan turned to Joe who just motioned for him to go on and follow Methos.

"He's not in any condition to meet another Immortal, Mac. Just go."

Mac needed no other urging and he quickly left the diner in pursuit of the oldest-pain-in-anyone's-butt. He glanced around, but then saw him through the windows of the store across the street. Mac checked to make sure there were no cars coming, and then went to meet up with his stubborn lover.

Once in the store, he saw Methos behind some round clothes racks. The Old Man seemed to be pulling something on over his legs. Methos dropped his coat onto the floor and didn't even pause at the loud thunk it caused. He proceeded to yanked off his shirt. He dropped that on top of his coat, and then pulled on a dull yellow blouse off the rack. Behind him, mouth agape, a salesclerk was staring at the lean toned floor show that was Methos

"Come on, we should go home." Mac said walking over to Methos. The old man probably wanted a reaction, so the best thing to do would be not to react. Stepping around the rack , MacLeod stopped short.

"You like?" Methos asked, his eyes shining, then they dulled, "Oh. I forgot. I'm not talking to you." He turned and stepped out of his jeans and kicked them under the rack. He turned to the salesclerk., "Well, what do you think?"

"Uh...uh....we have a dressing room, sir."

"Methos." Mac whispered.

The ancient immortal turned to Mac, and sniffed before turning back to the salesclerk. "Do you have a mirror?"

"Mac?" Joe asked from the door. Mac seemed frozen on the spot.

The salesclerk pointed to one of the side walls, and Methos walked unsteadily towards it. Spotting Joe, he grinned and went over to Joe. "Look what I found!"

Joe coughed to cover his smile, "It's a kilt."

"Yup. It's a MacGregor if I remember my tartans." Methos commented as he adjusted the swath of tartan over his shoulder.

Joe looked over at MacLeod, who as staring hungrily at Methos, "Ah. It's nice."

"Noh, it's not'." MacLeod said, his voice husky. "You shouldna be wearin another clan's kilt." Mac strode forward while pulling out his wallet. Without looking, he tossed a wad of bills towards the clerk. He quickly shoved the billfold back into his pocket, leaned over and picked Methos up in a fireman's carry.

Mac turned to Joe and grinned, "Can you make sure his things get to my place?"

Joe nodded, while Mac quickly walked out of the store

"He gets possessive." Methos stage whispered to Joe from the doorway.

"Really?" Joe asked, wondering who was going to be more embarrassed about this tomorrow.

Fin


End file.
